


Counting The Days

by gracie137



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Albus Is A Hipster Snob, Best Friends, Drinking, Family Bonding, First Kiss, First Love, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, HP: Epilogue Compliant, Harry Potter Next Generation, M/M, Music Debates, Mutual Pining, Piercings, Pining, Scorpius Is A Preppy Posho, Sharing a Bed, Smoking gillyweed, could I make it anymore obvious?, harry potter is a good dad, supportive family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-17 23:47:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14200275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracie137/pseuds/gracie137
Summary: Albus is hoping the summer of leaving Hogwarts will finally be the summer everything works out for him, and for once he might just be right.





	Counting The Days

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thealmostrhetoricalquestion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thealmostrhetoricalquestion/gifts).



> So I havent been able to stop thinking about Albus with piercings for a few days and so this fic was begging me to write it, I also love next gen because it means i can use modern slang!! I hope you like it Chelsea, and I wanted to say thankyou for the Narcissa fic!!
> 
> Also thankyou forever to @untilourapathy for literally beating beta speed records

“I don’t know what I want to do with my life,” Albus groans, staring up at the ceiling of Scorpius’s room.

Scorpius waves his hand in Albus’s face, which Albus takes as a hint that he wants the joint back before he answers Albus’s question. 

Albus continues staring up at the ceiling, his eyes watching the stars that are painted onto Scorpius’s ceiling. There’s a special charm in the paint that causes the stars to move at Scorpius’s command. They’re moving now, tracking across the night sky and forming different constellations — Albus has never been able to learn any of them.

Albus listens to the sounds of Scorpius exhaling, and smiles as a waft of smoke joins the stars above him. “Mum says no one knows what to do with their life,” Scorpius says.

“My dad did,” Albus grumbles, because his dad had waltzed out of Hogwarts having freshly defeating Voldemort and into the Aurors without the necessary qualifications, because he was Harry fucking Potter and he didn’t need them. “So did my mum, Uncle Ron, Jamie, Teds, and maybe Aunt Hermione didn’t know  _ exactly  _ what she wanted to do, but it didn’t matter because she was smart enough to do whatever she wanted.”

“You’re smart,” Scorpius says, leaning over and placing the joint between Albus’s lips. Albus smiles around it, letting the smoke hit the back of his throat before leaning over and blowing it in Scorpius’s face, grinning as Scorpius’s nose scrunched up. “I’m not going to take it back just because you’re being a dick.”

Albus pulled a face. “I’m not smart like you though.”

“No, you’re smart like you,” Scorpius says, putting the joint back between his lips. It’s only as the orange glow of the end illuminates the sharp angles of Scorpius’s face, that Albus realises the room has gotten dark around them. “You don’t need to be like everyone else.”

“Don’t get deep on me,” Albus grumbles, staring back at the ceiling because it’s easier than having his conversation. “I want to do something to celebrate school ending.”

“Want to get tattoos?”

Albus considers it before shaking his head. “I like that idea, but something less…” he trails off and gestures.

“Drastic?” Scorpius suggests, because he’s always been good with words… even when stoned and Albus envies him of that.

“Yes, drastic,” Albus repeats, the word not sounding as good in his voice as it does in Scorpius’s plummy accent. “I could get my ears pierced.”

Scorpius doesn’t say anything and Albus rubs on his ear lobes, gesturing for the joint again. Scorpius passes it to him, and Albus inhales still refusing to look over at Scorpius. “Think it’ll suit me?”

“Yeah,” Scorpius says, his voice catching. Albus turns to look at him, raising an eyebrow at Scorpius’s hooded eyes — maybe they’re more stoned than he’d thought. He’ll have to ask Freds where she got this Gillyweed. “You’ve already got the whole,” Scorpius gestures to Albus, “vibe going.”

“What vibe?” Albus isn’t sure if he’s supposed to be insulted or not.

Scorpius shrugs, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “You know, edgy.”

“I am not edgy,” Albus huffs, “I just disagree with mainstream wizarding society.”

“That’s edgy,” Scorpius says, rolling the word edgy over his tongue. “You’re there in your obscure band hoodies, ripped jeans and floppy hair,” Scorpius laughs, “it’s edgy.”

Those are not things that make people edgy, Albus debates explaining, and there is nothing  _ less  _ edgy than thinking yourself edgy. However, Scorpius probably wouldn’t understand so Albus settles for grumbling:

“Just because you listen to Tracy Davis. You’d think a circle was edgy.”

“Yeah, and you listen to stuff like Frogspawn and Broken Cauldrons—”

“It’s Crooked Cauldrons,” Albus corrects before conceding Scorpius’s point that perhaps the bands he likes are a little more obscure, but that’s because they play real music! None of that crap you hear on the Wireless.

Scorpius laughs again. “All I meant was that you’d look good with pierced ears.”

“Thanks,” Albus says, he can feel the heat rising on his cheeks so he continues staring at the ceiling so Scorpius can’t tell. Albus has accepted the fact he’s in love with his best friend to the point it’s become part of his day to day life, but little things sometimes break through his walls. “You should get a nose ring.”

Scorpius chokes on the smoke he was inhaling, and Albus glances over at him, trying to keep his face serious.

“You’re joking.”

Albus bites his lip but he can’t stop a grin from spreading across his face.

“Dick,” Scorpius huffs, shoving Albus away, but he can’t hide his laughter.

Albus giggles as he sprawls across Scorpius’s bed, trying to tell himself that the lingering sensation of Scorpius’s touch is just an effect of the Gillyweed.

***

Albus’s breath stops as Scorpius’s fingers pause a whisper away from his ear. He wants to look away from Scorpius’s face as he can feel himself blushing, but he can’t bring himself to look anywhere but at the utter awe on Scorpius’s face.

“Look okay?” He asks, panicking that maybe his breath smells at the speed Scorpius retreats.

Scorpius nods. “Yeah, you look…” he smiles, “you look amazing.”

Albus feels that final bit of fear he’d been feeling about the idea melt away, because all that matters right now is that Scorpius likes them.

He hears the piercing artist laugh. “I’m glad you like them,” he nods eagerly up at the woman, he really likes her wild blue hair as well, but he doesn’t have the nerve to tell her so. She reminds him of Teddy a bit. It’s the knowledge that Teddy has pierced ears that’s keeping Albus from worrying that James will mock him too much. “Now,” she says to Scorpius, “if you can leave off your boyfriend for a moment, I can do his other ear.”

Albus chokes on his tongue as he watches a thousand different emotions fly across Scorpius’s face.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Albus says quickly because he’d rather say it himself than have to hear Scorpius say it — even if it’s true it’ll hurt. “We’re just best friends!” He cringes at himself and regrets ever speaking.

He stares at the piercing artist rather than having to look at Scorpius as she picks up her wand again. 

“My mistake,” she laughs. Albus presses his lips together in what he hopes is reminiscent of a smile, but he has a bad feeling it's more of grimace. “Does the symbol on your top mean anything?” She asks, and Albus has a feeling she’s as desperate to change the topic as he is.

“Yeah, it’s a Muggle band,” he says, “I went to their concert last summer.”

“Sick,” she says, “can’t say I have too much knowledge on Muggle music.”

“You should listen to it, they’ve got more of a range of music that isn’t corporate produced, and just aimed at getting plays on WWW,” Albus says, “a lot of them seem like real musicians.”

Scorpius snorts and Albus flips him off. He’d tried to introduce Scorpius to Muggle bands but Scorpius had somehow ended up listening to the likes of  _ One Direction _ , and while the members were bloody fit, Albus can’t say much for their sets.

“There’s a reason it’s popular music,” Scorpius says, and Albus doesn’t need to be able to see him to know he’s smiling. Scorpius only says things like this to wind him up. “Four Broken Prophecies sound like my grandma’s Crups.”

“Take that back,” Albus says, feeling a tingle in his ear as the piercing artist pierces it and begins murmuring the necessary healing charms.

“You’re right, that’s unfair to the Crups,” Scorpius continues, and Albus laughs despite the insult to one of his favourite bands. Scorpius never complains when Albus puts them on, so Albus is willing to let it slide. Also because it’s Scorpius - when James dares to insult Albus’s music taste, Albus is ready to fight to the death.

“All done,” the artist says, stepping back and summoning over a mirror.

Albus bites his lip as he looks in the mirror, trying not to gasp because… because in his ears are two round black discs and… he likes the way they look, really likes the way they look in a way he’s not used to liking things about himself.

Albus knows he looks like his dad. They’ve got the same green eyes, same dark hair that never lies flat, and he’s pretty similar to his dad facially. He’s had people cooing all his life that he looks like a miniature Harry Potter and it’s exhausting — it’s part of the reason he wears contacts — but his dad has never had his ears pierced.

“Wow,” Scorpius murmurs, and Albus nods, fingers ghosting the two piercings because this is something for himself. He feels like a piece of himself has slotted into place even if it's just a couple of piercings.

The piercing artist grins at him and gives him a healing salve to apply twice a day for a week, she seems nice enough that Albus doesn’t feel inclined to beg her to not sell him out to  _ The Prophet. “ _ I have a feeling you’ll be back,” she says to him with a wink as he hands over his galleons.

Albus brushes one of his piercings with his thumb and grins back at her, an easy unreserved smile he doesn’t give to too many people. “I think you may be right.”

***

Albus picks at a seam of his ripped jeans and watches as Scorpius taps away at his phone. Scorpius always gets a bit obsessed with the latest phone games, and Albus knows he’s just trying to beat Matty Thomas-Finnigan. Albus plays them sometimes, but he’s not as addicted as Scorpius — and he’s not as good as Scorpius, either.

“You staying for dinner?” he asks, rolling closer to Scorpius.

Scorpius doesn’t look up as he continues tapping away at his phone. “I was planning to.”

“Cool,” Albus says, resting his head on Scorpius’s shoulder so he can watch Scorpius play. Scorpius leans his head down against Albus’s and Albus tries not to smile too widely.

“Have your family seen the piercings yet?”

“Mum, dad and Lil have, but Jamie hasn’t been home yet,” Albus admits, it’s Jamie that he’s nervous about.

“What did they think?”

Albus grins as he remembers their reactions. Mum had simply raised her eyebrows before high-fiving him, Lily had teased him before promising him they suited him, and dad had choked on his chicken at dinner before giving Albus a watery smile that Albus interpreted as  _ I support your life choices _ .

“Dad nearly died, but he recovered well.”

Scorpius laughs. “Can you imagine the field day the papers would have if you killed your dad by getting a piercing?”

Albus shoves Scorpius but laughs. “Maybe it was the fact it was two.”

“A third would certainly take him out,” Scorpius muses.

“Why are you plotting my dad’s death?” Albus asks, rubbing his ear. It doesn’t hurt at all, as he’s ensuring he’s administering his salve.

Scorpius shrugs, dropping his phone onto the bed — Albus presumes he’d lost the game. “Maybe I just think you should get another piercing?”

Albus stills, glancing over at Scorpius who is playing with Albus’s green duvet cover. Albus has had green duvet covers since he was sorted into Slytherin, and he still thinks it’s his family’s way of trying to be supportive. Shockingly, they didn’t feel the same pressure to show support when Lily became a Ravenclaw.

“You think so?” he asks, letting the sleeves of his jumper flop over his hands. It was Scorpius’s jumper originally, meaning it’s far too big for him, but Scorpius never wore it so Albus doesn’t feel guilty about stealing it. It isn’t preppy enough for Scorpius.

Scorpius nods, still not looking at Albus. “Yeah, maybe a cartilage ring?”

“Oh,” Albus says as Scorpius turns to him.

Scorpius smiles and brushes Albus hair aside on his left ear. “Yeah, like you could get a ring just here,” he says, fingers pressing against a spot on Albus’s ear.

“You think so?”

“I think so,” Scorpius says. Scorpius is so close to his face Albus is afraid to breathe (partly because he’s worried his breath will smell). He can see the blue flecks in Scorpius’s grey eyes, and the pale lashes framing them. Scorpius’s lips curve up into a smile, and they look soft enough to… Albus’s breath hitches because he shouldn’t be thinking about Scorpius’s lips because Scorpius is his— 

Albus nearly topples off his bed as he leaps back from Scorpius as the door flies open and James appears, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Oi dickhead, why aren’t you downstairs to greet your favourite brother?” James laughs, striding into the room, “Also hello Scorpius, I’d say I’m surprised to see you here but I’d be more surprised if you weren’t.”

“Hey James,” Scorpius says with a small wave.

“You can’t declare yourself my favourite brother when you’re my only brother,” Albus grumbles, trying to compose his features into something less sulky.

“Yes I can, as I am by default your favourite brother,” James shrugs, still grinning as he inspects Albus’s room as if he thinks it’s going to have changed in the couple of weeks since he was last in it.

“Where’s the pride in the winning by default?”

“The pride is in the fact that I still win,” James shrugs again, turning back to Albus before his jaw drops. “No fucking way!” He shouts, and Albus hears Lily’s laughter drift through the doorway. “Oh my fucking Merlin and Jesus Christ, Almighty! No fucking way, Al! Oh fuck!”

Albus sighs and chews on the edge of his sleeve. Scorpius shoots him an amused look as James darts forward, grabbing Albus’s head and twisting it.

“You’ve pierced your ears!”

“Remind me again why you haven’t followed in dad’s footsteps,” Albus mutters, wincing as James twists his head to the other side to inspect his other ear.

“It doesn’t look bad!” James says, stepping back and grinning. “I mean you look like a prat, but you always look like a prat so there’s nothing new.”

“Brilliant,” Albus says.

“I mean you actually look even more like a pretentious moody hipster than you did before.”

“Nice.”

“I’m presuming that was the vibe you were going for?”

“Of course.”

“You don’t look as cool as Teds, but you don’t look like a total twat.”

“Thanks?”

James grins at him, and ruffles his hair because he knows Albus hates it, and Albus takes that as James’s sign of approval. “Anyway, mum and dad say come downstairs and remember our existence,” he says, pointing at them both before bounding out the room, shouting at Lily for not informing him about Albus’s new piercings.

Scorpius stands up and extends a hand to Albus who takes it willingly, Scorpius fingers entwine with his as he helps Albus to his feet, and Albus tries not to let himself dwell on the way Scorpius had held on a moment longer than necessary the whole way through dinner.

***

Albus lets his eyes greedily peruse the assortment of goods in front of him as he tries to decide what he fancies trying today.

“Have you got a coffee machine yet?” he asks when Greg is done serving an old lady an extremely large pile of hot cross buns.

“Nope,” Greg says, “because this is a bakery, not a coffee shop.”

Albus pulls a face. “I’m just saying, I think if you expanded this place, got a coffee machine and served a few savoury goodies, you’d be rolling it in.”

“I think I don’t need to take business advice from someone who is only a month out of Hogwarts,” Greg deadpans, before passing him a gingerbread cookie. Albus smiles and takes a bite out of one of the legs. “Do you even have a job yet?”

“Nope,” Albus says, and he lets the remark slide because he likes Greg a lot. Greg runs an optional Cookery class at Hogwarts on Saturday, and Scorpius had dragged Albus there in support for his god-father, and Albus had found he was good at it. Really good at it, in a way he’d never excelled at anything before.

Working in the kitchen with Greg had been some of his Hogwarts highlights, and it had helped him get closer to his dad as well. Albus’s favourite thing was when his dad invited him to join him in the kitchen, and they’d cook together with no need to say anything.

“What’s with the earrings?” Greg asks, “ Did you know, Blaise got his ears pierced after the War.”

“He did?” Albus splutters, trying to imagine Blaise Zabini with his fancy suits and straight face wearing earrings. He quite likes the image.

Greg nods. “Suits you more though.”

“More than Blaise?” Albus can’t quite believe that anyone would look better in anything than Blaise Zabini does.

Greg nods again. “He looked a right prat, you’ve got the right look for it.”

“Scorpius says I’m edgy enough,” he says, but he’s grinning as he plays with the edge of his jacket. He’d nicked it from his dad a couple of years back and it’s too big for him because it had once belonged to Sirius Black, but Albus doesn’t mind that. He likes his jeans skinny and his tops baggy.

“I don’t know what edgy means,” Greg says, causing Albus to laugh.

“Thinking of getting my cartilage done,” Albus says.

“Can you cover the till for me while I go back?” Greg says, before adding, “you should, though some people might tell you that it could risk your job prospects.”

“Yeah, my grandma said that to me,” Albus says, walking round the counter. “You’re not most people though, right?”

Greg laughs in response and Albus smiles. Greg is one of the few adults who has never made Albus feel stupid about the fact he has no idea what he wants to do with his life, and Albus owes him for that.

Albus works the till happily as Greg works in the bakery. Greg’s  _ The Cake Lair  _ is one of his and Scorpius’s favourite places to come and get food from before spending the rest of the day mooching about Diagon doing nothing in particular. He might suggest to Scorpius they go to the park later, it’s sunny and Albus fancies lying in the sun and chatting shit.

“I’m so sorry,” Scorpius pants, bursting through the door and causing a young child to start. He shoots the mother an apologetic look as he stumbles over towards the counter, his long legs on show in his pair of chino shorts.

Albus often thinks that Scorpius is lucky that he’s cute, because he dresses like an absolute wanker.

“Talks with dad and this French potion master ran over,” Scorpius says, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and grinning at Albus. “You working here now?”

Albus laughs and tries to ignore Scorpius’s loafers. “Yep, you want anything?”

“I hope you know I’m not paying you,” Greg called from the back, causing Albus and Scorpius to smile at each other because Scorpius turned to inspect the goods on display.

“You got a coffee machine yet?” Scorpius asks. Albus smirks at the sound of Greg’s groan. “Or ice-cream? You should develop ice-cream!”

Greg appears in the doorway and gives them both a firm yet fond look. “You’re just like your dad,” Greg sighs, and Scorpius winces. “I’m still not changing my bakery to suit your caffeine addiction.”

“What about ice-cream though?” Albus says, walking back around the counter to stand beside Scorpius. They must look a right pair between their height and different styles.

Greg gives them another  _ look  _ before rolling his eyes. “Go be pests somewhere else,” he says, shooing them away. They grin at each other and Scorpius ducks out of the door shouting to Greg that his dad says hi. “Oh and Albus,” Albus pauses, glancing at Greg over his shoulder, “if you ever did want to work here, there’s an apron ready for you.”

Albus swallows and nods, unable to tell Greg how much that means to him. Luckily, Greg isn’t a huge speaker and Albus doesn’t need to say anything at all.

“What was that about?” Scorpius asks, swiping his finger through the icing of a cupcake.

“Greg kinda offered me a job,” Albus says, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket as they walk down Diagon. He refuses to change his aesthetic just because it’s sunny, and he may not be the most powerful wizard but he can cast a decent  _ Cooling Charm _ — one that’s strong enough to mean he never has to wear shorts.

Scorpius’s face lights up. “Really? That’d be sick! Maybe you’d actually be able to convince him to make the place more modern!”

“I think it’d make a really great coffee-shop-bakery-kinda-thing,” Albus says. He smiles at the thought of himself chatting to customers, serving them their coffees (he  _ will  _ convince Greg to get a coffee machine if it kills him). “You know, get permission for a bit of expanding spell-work, add some tables, get some music, fuck we could even get a stage for bands…” Albus looks over at Scorpius whose smiling at him. “What?”

Scorpius shakes his head. “Nothing, want to go to the park?”

Albus laughs and shrugs off Scorpius’s strange behaviour. “Sounds good.”

***

Albus accepts the bottle of firewhiskey from Matty with a lazy smile, but declines the cigarette. His body feels loose and easy, as he reclines back in the garden chair watching Scorpius jump around to the music. Or perhaps it’s more Scorpius is flailing, he’s never been able to get his limbs under control, and Albus has spotted him nearly trip over himself once or time. Scorpius takes Zayn Zabini-Parkinson’s hand, inviting him to dance, and Albus tries to swallow the flash of jealousy he feels.

“You ever going to tell him?” Matty asks.

“Who, what?” Albus says, fiddling with the cartilage ring he got a couple of days ago.

He knows Matty is rolling his eyes even if Albus can’t bring himself to stop staring at Scorpius to check. “You’ve fancied Scorpius since Fourth Year.”

“Third,” Albus corrects, but Matty knows this. “And nope, I’m not going to ruin our friendship over a little crush.”

“It’s a bit more than a little crush.”

Albus shakes his head, twisting the ring. “Nah, I’ve got it under control.”

“When have you ever had anything under the control?” Albus glares at Matty, but drinks because it’s true. “Piercings look cool though.”

“Thanks,” Albus says, taking another drink. “Any post-Hogwarts plans?”

“I’m off travelling with Bones,” Matty says before laughing as they spot Scorpius stumbling towards them. “I’ll take my leave.”

“Twat,” Albus says, but he doesn’t mean it. Scorpius collapses into the chair between Albus’s legs with a loud sigh.

“Fuck me, I’m tired,” Scorpius sighs, his voice always sounds more plummy when he’s drunk — again it’s lucky he’s cute, Albus thinks.

“Probably from nearly knocking the whole dance floor out with your limbs,” Albus remarks, opening his legs when Scorpius squeeze his knees before settling between them. Albus rests his arms over Scorpius’s shoulders, smiling as Scorpius nestles back against his chest.

“Don’t be jealous of my long limbs, I can’t help being tall,” Scorpius sniffs.

Albus rests his chin on the top of Scorpius’s head. “You know I’m jealous of your height, you lanky prick.”

“I like your height.”

“I’m a short-arse,” Albus says. Scorpius’s hair tends to be cut short back and sides, but he’s grown it out more now and Albus prefers it that way. The longer hair on top tickles his nose, and Scorpius’s hair mainly smells like smoke from the fire pit Matty had set up, but Albus can just about make out the smell of apples from his expensive shampoo.

“A cute short-arse,” Scorpius says tracing his fingers on the patch of Albus’s skin that’s on show from his ripped jeans. Scorpius is in another pair of (in Albus’s opinion) horrendous shorts. “Except not so much cute and kinda really hot.” Albus freezes as Scorpius continues. “Like a puppy is cute, and you’re not like a puppy, especially not with the piercings, haven’t you noticed everyone checking you out tonight?”

“No,” Albus breathes, his voice hitching.

Scorpius lets out a laugh, that doesn’t sound very amused. “Cause you’re oblivious, someone could flat out tell you they love you and you wouldn’t even notice.”

Albus thinks there’s an irony in Scorpius saying that to him.

“No one’s ever told me they love me,” Albus says because he doesn’t know what else to say.

Scorpius peers over his shoulder and for the first time Albus has no idea what he’s thinking. “Maybe you just haven’t been listening.”

Albus swallows, staring at Scorpius who laughs again, jumping up from between Albus’s legs and extending his hand. “Dance with me? I love this song!”

Albus nods, taking Scorpius’s hand before groaning. “This song is awful!”

Scorpius shrugs, squeezing Albus’s hand and pulling him to his feet too quickly, causing Albus to stumble against Scorpius’s body, the two of them flush together for the joyous seconds that neither of them move away.

“Should we go dance then?” Albus says, and Scorpius nods stepping back. Albus hates himself for speaking, for driving away the warmth of Scorpius’s body.

“Yeah,” Scorpius says, “I might never get another opportunity to see you dancing to  _ Duel For This Love _ .”

“The things I do for you,” Albus mutters, but he’s not complaining really because Scorpius’s hasn’t let go of his hand yet.

By the time they tumble through the floo back into the Manor and creep up the stairs to avoid waking Scorpius’s dad, Albus is exhausted. He’s not a big dancer because he can’t dance to save his life, but with Scorpius it doesn’t matter. Scorpius dances because he enjoys it, and he makes Albus enjoy it too.

“Can we just sleep here?” Albus mumbles, pointing at a comfortable looking spot on the floor.

Scorpius giggles, wrapping an arm around Albus’s waist. “Nope, my bed isn’t too far.”

“Good,” Albus says. He’s forever grateful that Scorpius doesn’t insist on making him sleep in the spare-room, that as they’d got older they hadn’t lost the tactile affection they’d started the relationship with. Sometimes he thinks he’s trying to hurt himself by doing things like this, but he’s not willing to give it up either. “I’m going to sleep for twenty-four hours.”

“I’m going to sleep for twenty-five,” Scorpius says as they enter his room. Scorpius begins pulling off his shirt, and Albus is too slow to look away letting his eyes linger on Scorpius’s slim frame. “Al,” Scorpius says, and Albus bite his lip, tugging his jumper over his head so that his blush his hidden for a bit.

He drops it on the floor, reaching for the collar of his top to pull it off as well. He can feel Scorpius’s eyes on him taking in his soft stomach, tanned skin and the smattering of dark hair on his body. It’s nothing Scorpius hasn’t seen before, but this feels different. Albus doesn’t dare say anything, because he feels like if he does, he’s shattering a moment that he’ll never get back. He lets his top fall on top of his jumper and meets Scorpius’s eyes.

Scorpius’s fingers rest on the buckle of his belt and Albus mimics the movement.

Scorpius never stays quiet for this long, but the moment is hanging between them as they both pull down their trousers leaving them standing there in their boxers. Albus feels more exposed than he ever has in his life because Scorpius is  _ looking  _ at him.

Neither of them are straight. Scorpius is bi, and Albus is… Albus doesn’t know what he is, he’s still figuring the whole thing out. He’s Scorpius-sexual. Matty suggested he could be demi-sexual, and maybe he is, but Albus doesn’t feel the need to stick a label on it.

“Shall we get into bed?” Scorpius says, running a hand through his hair and the moment is gone, and the two of them are laughing at how utterly ridiculous the whole thing was.

Albus climbs into bed, curling up and facing Scorpius. Scorpius smiles at him, reaching out and cupping the side of Albus’s face. “I really do like the piercings, you know.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Scorpius says, his eyes fluttering. Albus can feel sleep calling to him, and he lets his eyes close with a smile on his face. The smile is still there the next morning when he wakes up with Scorpius in his arms.

***

Albus passes his dad the salt, before moving around him to check on how the vegetables are doing as they prepare lunch the following Sunday. Both James and Teddy are going to be round as well as Scorpius so there’s a full house to feed.

“How’s your summer going?” Harry asks. “It’s weird leaving Hogwarts, isn’t it?”

Albus personally thinks his experience of leaving Hogwarts and his dad’s might have been slightly different, but he’s no longer fourteen and understands his dad is trying.

“It’s been decent, I think I’ve got a job lined up at Greg’s place,” Albus says, not wanting to look at his dad in case his dad makes a comment about more traditional aspirations.

“That’s brilliant,” his dad says, and Albus let’s out the breath he’d been holding. “Goyle makes an incredible treacle tart and if you could nick that recipe for me, I’ll be forever in your favour.”

“I think it’d be a pretty short lived employment if I start stealing from him.”

Harry grins, and Albus smiles back at him before turning back to the aga. He likes the moments like this, the two of them in the kitchen when the conversation is as easy as anything. Turns out they have a lot in common when they finally managed to find learn it.

“And have you got any more piercings lined up?” Harry asks, and Albus raises his eyebrows causing Harry to laugh. “I’m just asking,” he promises, “Think I’d be able to pull them off?”

“Perhaps you’d suit a lip ring?” Albus suggests.

Harry pulls on his bottom lip. “ _ The Prophet  _ would have a field day.”

“Fuck  _ The Prophet _ .”

“Language, but yes, fuck  _ The Prophet _ ,” Harry says and they both laugh again. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“What was it?”

“Anymore piercings lined up?”

Albus hums, rubbing his cartilage ring. “I’m thinking of getting a second one of these.” He spins the ugly herb rack that his mum had bought his dad a few years ago, it’s an aggressive looking gnome that mutters under his breath whenever you take one of the herb vials from it. Albus isn’t quite sure why his parents are so fond of it, but he’s long accepted that all parents are a bit weird.

“And what does Scorpius think?” Harry asks, pottering about the kitchen. He’s barefoot and in a worn Weasley jumper, his jeans ripped through wear. He looks relaxed and happy, and Albus is happy for him. It seems there’s a weight off his shoulders in the last couple of years since he’s stepped back from Head Auror and just started teaching the trainees instead.

“Scorpius?” Albus questions, wiping his hands on the  _ James Potter Quidditch Hunk  _ tea-towel that James had gifted them with. James finds it far too funny to give people his own merchandise, the twat. Harry’s looking at him with his  _ Auror  _ look now, and Albus shifts under the intensity of it. “He likes them, yeah, why?”

“Just wondering,” Harry says, but his Auror face has cracked to reveal a smile and Albus groans.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Albus says.

“ _ I  _ never said he was.”

“You implied it,” Albus groans again, cause he walked straight into that one. “Stop it!”

“I’m not doing anything,” Harry laughs, holding his hands up. “Do you want him to be your boyfriend?”

Albus sneaks a look over at his dad who looks just as awkward as Albus feels. He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth before shrugging and saying, “He’s Scorpius.” The way his dad smiles tells him that’s all he needed to say.

“Al?”

Albus wonders if the floor can swallow him whole, please and thank you. Albus squeezes his eyes shut before opening them and glancing at his dad, who gives him an encouraging smile.

“Heya Scorp,” Albus says, turning and shuffling his feet as he stares at his socks. They’re odd, and one is bright pink with unicorns and the other electric blue with cobwebs. Lily always gives him the eccentric socks.

“Hi Scorpius,” Harry says, “How’re your parents?”

“Good,” Scorpius nods, “Mum’s got a Squib rights campaign coming up, and Dad’s just…” Albus glances up to see him shrug, “Dad’s being dad, he’s helping me find a Potions Masters apprenticeship.”

“Any luck?”

Albus really wishes his dad would stop talking.

“Yeah, think we’ve found one I really like,” Scorpius says, “Urm, Al, can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure, but I was—”

“—the potatoes will do fine without you,” Harry says, giving him another encouraging smile. Albus feels like he’s eleven again and about to receive another pep talk on the bravery of his namesake so he quickly leads Scorpius up to his room.

Carefully moving a heap of Vinyl cases to the side, Albus perches on the edge of his desk watching Scorpius look around before settling in the middle of the room. Scorpius fingers the leather band around his wrist, and Albus finds himself matching the movement. They’ve both been wearing the bands since Fourth Year.

“So, we’re having beef for dinner,” Albus says because it’s something to say.

Scorpius nods, his mouth twisting before he blurts out: “What did you mean by ‘He’s Scorpius’ in answer to your dad’s question?”

Albus sighs because a tiny part of him had been praying Scorpius hadn’t heard that.

“I meant…” he shrugs, “you know, you’re you.”

“No, Al,” Scorpius says, and what Albus notices is that he’s not moving. Scorpius is always moving. “I don’t know, because I never know with you!”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I don’t know if you like me or not.”

“Of course, I like you, you’re my—”

“Please don’t say best friend Al, because we both know that isn’t what I meant,” Scorpius sighs, collapsing down onto Albus’s bed. “I pretty much flat out confessed to being in love with you at Matty’s, and I can’t figure out if you really didn’t catch on or if you don’t feel the same.”

Albus blinks and forgets how to breathe as Scorpius’s words hang between them. “You…”

“Love you, yeah,” Scorpius says with a small smile. 

“Oh,” Albus says because he’s never been a talker and Scorpius is meant to be the one who is good with words. Albus is the quiet one of the friendship, the one who  _ shows _ the way he feels, doesn’t say it. However, Scorpius is looking at him now like he needs to hear it. Scorpius  _ needs  _ Albus to say something.

“Look you don’t—”

“—no!” Albus says, “I…” he swallows, rubbing his hand across his face, “I’m not good at this whole… thing, but…” Scorpius’s eyes are wide and earnest, and Albus as he has so many times over their friendship, finds strength in Scorpius’s presence. “I love you too.”

“Oh,” Scorpius says, his mouth falling open and curling into a smile. “You do?”

“Yeah,” Albus says. He doesn’t need to tell Scorpius how much or for how long just yet; fact he doesn’t need to tell Scorpius anything because Scorpius is bounding over towards him, and cupping Albus’s face in his hands, long fingers brushing Albus’s piercings.

“You love me,” Scorpius grins, and Albus nods, because he does. He can feel his own face breaking into a grin and a weight he didn’t know was on his shoulders lifting. “You love me,” Scorpius repeats as if he can’t quite believe it. Albus can’t understand how someone like Scorpius could ever think Albus wouldn’t love him.

“Even if you dress like a twat and have an awful music taste,” Albus says, “Yeah, I love you.”

“Right back at you,” Scorpius laughs before leaning down and pressing a chaste kiss to Albus’s lips. Albus isn’t sure he’s ever going to be able to stop smiling - that is, until Scorpius leans in again and Albus is forced to use his mouth for other purposes.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and Comments fuel my life xoxo
> 
> Find me on tumblr [@gracie137blogs](http://gracie137blogs.tumblr.com)


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